


Navigatoria

by moccatoccata



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moccatoccata/pseuds/moccatoccata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm glad that I've met you."</p><p>A series of seven days drabble celebrating the #UKSpWeek2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning Roses (#5)

**Author's Note:**

> My first day drabble for the UKSp/SpUK Week this year! Weeeeeee~ This drabble is unbeated so if there's any mistake please point it out and I'll fix it. Enjoy the story!

Spain was the type of person who woke up slowly. It was an everyday struggle for him to wake up below 10 am and often, even after he woke up, the brunet spent more than half an hour just rolling in bed; savoring the coolness of the sheet that made it hard for him to leave it immediately. He just loved the bed and there was nothing wrong with it. He liked England’s bed as well which always had the Englishman’s distinct smell, the one that Spain always recognize from when he hugged or kissed the blond. It was not England’s perfume, but more tea and rain-scented and it always managed to calm Spain down.

Today, however, when the Spaniard was rolling to England’s side of the bed unconsciously (he decided to give England a surprise visit), instead of being greeted by the familiar scent of the Englishman, another scent hit his nose which made Spain jolted from his sleep and sat straight up before looking at the said object while his brain was trying to whir itself to be fully functioned. It was a bouquet of roses which petals were still covered in dew. The Spaniard then looked at the clock at the bedside table and it showed that it was only 7.15 in the morning.

“Is there a special occasion?” he muttered to himself while picking the bouquet and smell it, closing his eyes when the sweet scent of the flowers filled his nose. It was after savoring the scent of the roses that Spain realized that the thorns were already cut off; England probably knew that he liked to roll in his sleep.

“But why did he put it on the bed instead of in the vase?” the Spaniard once again asked to thin air before thinking that it must be England’s morning gift for him (the Englishman was secretly a romantic). The brunet then tried to leave the bed when a piece of paper fell down from the bouquet.

Follow the steps.

“What steps?” Spain wondered but when he finally left the bed, his eyes caught some red petals which trailed to outside the bedroom. The brunet looked at it confusedly before carefully following the trail. What kind of things did England do now? Spain had managed to give the Englishman a surprise gift last month; bringing England to a Mediterranean voyage using a sail ship (England’s expression that time was completely worth it), perhaps this was the blond’s way to repay it.

Their rivalry somehow extended to their love life and it made Spain chuckle when he thought about it. Happily, he followed the trail until it reached the back door of the house with shoes and coat there and just like before, there was a paper which was filled with England’s handwriting.

Use the shoe and the coat, love.

Spain obediently followed; his hands were still holding the bouquet. The Spaniard felt that his mouth were grinning for some time now, he felt giddy while trying to guess what England would do next. Hopefully it didn’t involve of going outside since Spain hadn’t take a bath yet. The brunet then again followed the trail which led him to the gazebo outside, the morning air was fresh and the sky looked bright, promising a good morning to the citizen of London (telling that it was a good day probably stretched it too much).

A breakfast set had waited for him on the table along with a card which Spain took quickly; he was impatient and he didn’t want to wait much longer and because he was starting to get hungry now. The English breakfast looked delicious (it was probably England’s chef who made this) and he didn’t eat that much last night.

Say this: music please.

Smiling, Spain sat on one of the chair before saying loudly, “Music, please!”

A soft music was then heard like there was an orchestra playing somewhere close. It was not a CD track, Spain realized later, but a live one, even if he couldn’t see any of them. It was then that another piece of paper fell down to Spain’s lap. Putting the bouquet on the vase on a small table beside him (how convenient), he then picked the card before reading it which contain another order.

Call me.

“England!” Spain called, looking left and right, “Show me yourself!”

“I’m here, love,” a voice was heard from behind him, making Spain turned around and look up. England was standing there behind him, smiling softly. His cheeks were a little red, probably because of the cold and spending so much time outside planning all of this.

“I’m here all along,” continued the Englishman before bending down to peck Spain’s lips. The Spaniard frowned, feeling that it wasn’t enough and tried to raise himself but was cut by England’s hands which pushed his shoulder down, telling him to sit.

“It’s too short,” the Spaniard complained, watching as England walked to his left side, “I’m not going to consider it a good morning kiss!”

“Well, because it’s not,” answered England, almost nonchalantly and it made Spain huffed, “This is.”

It was then when England bended down once again to give Spain a full kiss, not with lust or the sense of urgency but it still made both of them trembled and when England finished it with a lick to Spain’s bottom lips, the Spaniard couldn’t help but to moan.

“Careful, love,” said England, his face and lips were red now and he was panting softly, “Don’t make me carry you to bed again.”

“And if I want it?” Spain asked, although it was more of a jest, “You know how much I love the bed, _amor_.”

England only smiled before kissing Spain once again, this time it was longer than the first one but shorter than the second.

“Good morning, beloved.”

Spain grinned while watching Arthur who was walking to his chair, “Now you’re changing the topic, but yeah … _Buenos dias, amor_. And thank you for the lovely morning surprise. I love the roses.”

“It was nothing compared to the gift of happiness you give every day to me.”

“Cheese. Although considering that today is a special day then I’m going to forgive you for it.”

“Then your forgiveness is all I ask,” said England who was grinning as well because of seeing Spain making barfed noises.

Yes, somehow it would be the start of a very special day for them.


	2. Sunny Confession (#16)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 submission! As always, unbetaed so if there's any mistake feel free to point it out. Thank you so much for the comments, the kudos and the reblogs. Hope you guys enjoy this as well~
> 
> As a side note, conversation in " _italics_ " means it's in Spanish while if it's "normal" means it's in English.

His head felt like it was being hammered continuously, making Arthur groaned in pain. He heard someone muttered something in the distance and a cool object was pressed on his forehead. Arthur felt the pain was lessened and he muttered his thanks before feeling someone putting their hands on his cheek. Arthur, who currently felt miserable and hot right now, was eagerly snuggling the hand and in turn made that someone chuckled. He heard a few words which he couldn’t comprehend before falling back to unconsciousness.

Arthur didn’t know what time it is when he was back to consciousness. He still felt dizzy but the hammering in his head had stopped and he was able to open his eyes quite easily—quite being the key word. He was grateful that the room light was turned off and there was only the small lamp as the source of light. He felt a pressure on his left hand but the dim light made him unable to see what it is.

A click was heard before the door was opened. The corridor’s light seeped in for a second, illuminating the figure who entered before it disappeared again as the door closed. It was enough for Arthur to know who was coming and he felt safer now. It meant that he was still in the Fernandez’s house and not in some strangers. The figure went close to him and Arthur had to strain his throat—he didn’t know that he was that parched—to call the figure.

The figure though heard him and although Arthur couldn’t see their face, he could feel the tension which left their posture.

“ _Thank God_ ,” said the figure, which he recognized as Mrs. Fernandez, “ _You’re already awake_. _How are you feeling?_ ”

It was strange to hear Mrs. Fernandez talked to him so softly. The woman always spoke loudly, louder and slower when speaking to Arthur because of the Englishman’s incapability to understand it if it being spoken rapidly.

“ _I’m fine_ ,” Arthur answered, clearing his throat after he did so. Thankfully, Mrs. Fernandez understood him and fetched a glass of water from the table on the opposite side of the room. It was then when Arthur recognized the room he was in. It was Mrs. Fernandez’s second son room and he unconsciously shuddered when he remembered what happened this morning.

Steps were heard and in a matter of seconds Mrs. Fernandez was on his bedside once again. The woman touched his forehead before cradling his still warm cheeks, “ _Are you cold, sweetheart?_ ”

Arthur didn’t answer this time. Instead he croaked ‘ _water_ ’, making the woman quickly put it to the bedside table before assisting Arthur to sit. Arthur felt the pressure on his hand moved and he quickly looked at the lump which he noticed as the said second son, Antonio. To be honest, after what happened this morning on the field, the Englishman was actually surprised that Antonio still wanted to be close to him.

‘Perhaps he does that out of the goodness of his heart,’ Arthur thought. His train of thought was cut off by Mrs. Fernandez giving him the glass of water and observing that the Englishman was looking at his son intently, the woman spoke up.

“ _He’s the one who found you yesterday, unconscious because of the heat_ ,” said Mrs. Fernandez, “ _He screamed to the entire house when he returned. We thought that you got a horrible accident_.”

Mrs. Fernandez continued while reaching across the bed to pat his son’s head, making the said man muttered something before changing his position, “ _It was a mild heat stroke, the doctor said. You’re lucky that you’re under the shade. Otherwise you’re going to end up like our neighbor who was admitted into the hospital two days ago_.”

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Arthur apologized, watching as the woman sat on the bed, “ _I didn’t mean to make all of you worried_.”

Truthfully he felt horrible. The Fernandez family already had so many other things to think about but there he was, getting heat stroke because of his petty problem and his stubbornness for waiting outside until the sun was down. It was the peak of summer and he stupidly followed his ego—and perhaps he was scared as well—who told him not to come back to the house.

“ _You’re not stupid, Arthur_ ,” Mrs. Fernandez continued and Arthur detected the hint of patronizing in her voice. It made Arthur lowered his head down in shame, “ _Don’t lower your head down, son. I’m sure that this accident already served as a reminder for you not to come out of the house without water and a hat. If you wanted to take a siesta then you can do it inside the house_.”

“It’s not because of _siesta_ ,” replied Arthur in English. When he saw, albeit unclearly because of the dim light, the woman looked at him confusedly, Arthur changed back to speak Spanish, “ _It’s not because of siesta, Mrs. Fernandez_.”

There was a lull in the conversation after that and Arthur chose to put his glass on the bedside table. The two were silent and Arthur couldn’t help but to look at Antonio who were sleeping peacefully. It was not the most comfortable position to sleep and Arthur felt bad for occupying the man’s bed. Mrs. Fernandez perhaps noticed that once again Arthur had looked at Antonio when she asked.

“ _Is it because of my son?_ ” asked the woman, smiling faintly when Arthur looked at her like a deer in the headlight, “ _Are you in trouble because of him?_ ”

Arthur quickly shook his head but the woman, again, cut him when he tried to speak, “ _I heard both of you, you know_.”

Arthur felt the heat came back to his face full force. Of course, how dumb he was for speaking in the kitchen this—well, yesterday—morning when Mrs. Fernandez was still in the vicinity of the house. Mrs. Fernandez must come back to the house to fetch something when she heard Arthur and Antonio conversing in the kitchen.

“ _Since when?”_ the tone of Mrs. Fernandez voice was so flat it made Arthur gulped a couple of time. His days in here were over; perhaps he will be shipped back to Madrid tomorrow morning. It was terrible that Antonio rejected him yesterday which led to the heat stroke incident—petty he knew—but it really took it to the next level if the mother of your love interest knew about it too.

“ _Since two months ago, ma’am_ ,” answered Arthur. He didn’t even dare to look at the woman, choosing to look at his fingers instead which were slightly tanned after six months being in Spain.

Mrs. Fernandez didn’t say anything and Arthur already expected that he would be shipped back to Madrid— _I’m really sorry, but we couldn’t take care of Arthur anymore_ —by the end of the week. Mrs. Fernandez was not a bad person. It might invite a few raised eyebrows from the exchange program staff but they would surely just nod and took Arthur to another host family. Again, it was horrible because he was already feeling attached to the Fernandez and their farm but beggar couldn’t be chooser, right?

What Arthur didn’t expect though was Mrs. Fernandez patting his head and smiling before saying, “ _Arthur, dear. Not answering doesn’t mean he’s rejecting you_.”

It was awkward, yes. To talk about things like this to someone which was 1) the mother of your love interest 2) a woman 3) older and did he already said that she was the mother of your love interest? Arthur face felt flushed now but it was very impolite to not answering if you were being asked. That was what his mother was saying.

Thankfully, Mrs. Fernandez regarded his silence as a cue for her to start speaking again, “ _Antonio perhaps never thought of you confessing to him like that. He was surprised, that’s all_.”

“ _Him never thinking of me confessing is already my sign, Mrs. Fernandez_ ,” Arthur said dryly, “ _He doesn’t like me that way_.”

The woman hummed before asking, “ _Have you noticed the way he acts and speaks when he’s around you?_ ”

When Arthur looked at her in confusion, the woman chuckled and continued, “ _He was always tried to act and speak more dignified around you, not cursing and stuff. Even when he and his father went to the town to buy some supplies, he always sneaks something so he can give it to you_.”

Arthur remembered a couple of occasion when Antonio did that but the brunet only said that it was his father who bought it—for the entire family too, Antonio emphasized—and this was Arthur’s share because he was family now.

“ _He’s really jealous too to his brother because you and Afonso clicked better than him and you,_ ” at this point Mrs. Fernandez couldn’t help but laughing, albeit she tried to tone down her voice as to not wake Antonio up, “ _He’s so jealous that he confronted his brother if he liked you too. Afonso being Afonso of course couldn’t help but to rile him up_.”

So that was why Afonso—Antonio’s half brother—always grinned and peeked behind his shoulder every time he asked Arthur to help him with something and in turned out that it was not a coincidence that Antonio was always around when he did so.

“ _He’s the first one who told me that our little Tonio is falling in love with you_ ,” informed Mrs. Fernandez, “ _At first I only waved it off and thought that it will pass soon because my son always has a crush here and there, but it’s been four months and_ —”

“W-Wait! Four months?!” at this point, Arthur couldn’t help but to cut Mrs. Fernandez speech. He only realized it after and he started to apologize to the woman profusely. The woman seemed able to understand his English-burst—as Afonso liked to call—this time because the woman nodded.

“ _Yes, dear. Longer than you, yes?_ ”

“ _But_ ,” replied Arthur, this was too surprising for him, “ _Antonio … never…_ ”

Mrs. Fernandez smiled before patting his head once again and stood up. After taking the glass from the bedside table, she circled the bed to where Antonio was sleeping and then hit his son’s shoulder. Arthur heard the brunet yelped and somehow felt horrified because he had the inkling where this would go.

“ _That’s for you two to find out. Isn’t that right, Tonio?_ ”

Arthur couldn’t help but to wish he was knocked back to unconsciousness now.


End file.
